


Water Under the Bridge

by GoldStarGrl



Category: Veep (TV)
Genre: American Politics, Basically a The Proposal AU, Canon Divergence, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-14 03:58:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9159778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldStarGrl/pseuds/GoldStarGrl
Summary: "Jonah's numbers went up because of what he said. That thing about having a boyfriend.”The needle pushed up through Dan’s stomach and into his chest cavity. “You’re shitting me.”A fake-dating fic without shame. Spoilers through Season 5.





	1. Don't Let Your Enemies Become Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I finally caved because I don't think this fandom has enough fake dating fics. Also there's a lot of unnecessary bashing of New Hampshire in here because your author was born and raised in Massachusetts and I refuse to apologize for it.

It wasn’t Dan’s fault nobody in this godforsaken backwater snowcovered state understood a rhetorical phrase.

If Jonah had been campaigning in D.C., or Boston, or Philadelphia or anywhere else in the fucking country, it would be a passing joke at worst. At best, the sentence that nailed the end of a rousing speech that got the voters off their couches for a special election and secured another Democratic seat in the hallowed halls of Congress.

But Jonah was campaigning in suburban New Hampshire. _It made sense_ , Dan thought, as he leaned back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. _That Jonah was as stupid as he was, if these were the people who raised him._

That morning, an intern picked up the local papers, one half-decent, one nothing more than an regional _National Enquirer_ , and lay them on Dan's desk, to greet him when he came in. Both of which quoted the stupid, impulsive joke.

**_“My Boyfriend’s Not a Billionaire” Congressional Candidate Promises to take on President Meyer; Reveals LGBT Status?_ **

And the second -

**_“My Boyfriend’s Not A Billionaire” - Is Ryan Gay?_ **

“You know, I honestly thought I’d seen it all.” Richard chuckled, leaning against the doorway. The same idiot intern probably left it open.

“Shut up, you’re like twelve.” Jonah snapped, lumbering in behind him. His buoyant mood post-debate seemed to have evaporated into the frigid morning air. “What the fuck is this?”

“It’s your dumb town thinking you _literally_ have a boyfriend. A _poor_ boyfriend.” Just as Jonah made to barricade the little  room against the rest of the office, Amy scurried in under his arm, her sheet of blonde hair whooshing back with the slam of the door. She jammed her phone so close to her face it almost touched her nose.

Jonah sat down on the edge of Dan’s desk, shaking and knocking over his coffee cup full of pens. “Well, you guys make it stop. That’s the whole point of you.”

“Get your ass away from my face.” Dan leaned over and smacked the small of Jonah’s back. Amy perched on the edge of the folding chair across from him, eyes still on her phone.

“You love it.” Jonah jumped off the desk anyway and sat down next to Amy. “So tell them it was a joke. Write a release.” He leaned over, smiling for the first time since he entered the room, but a horrible, leering smile. “Or maybe Amy and I could get photographed out on the town. At dinner, a movie, sucking me off in the parking lot-”

“Shut up.” Amy held up a hand, inches from his face.

“Come on, it’s not like we haven’t-”

“Shut. Up.” She stood, hunching over her screen. “Mother fuck.”

“What is it?” Richard asked.

“What?” Dan parroted, a thin needle of anxiety poking into his stomach lining. Amy didn’t look up at either of them, or Jonah.

“Your numbers went up.”

Jonah perked up in his chair. “Fuck yeah.”

“No, they went up because of what you said. That thing about having a boyfriend.”

The needle pushed up through Dan’s stomach and into his chest cavity. “You’re shitting me.”

“People like couples, families.” Amy said, finally tearing her eyes away from the news. “We don't want to 'make it stop'. You’re less creepy when you're not on your own.”

“I wouldn’t call him creepy. More...solitary.” Richard piped up from the corner. Jonah crossed his arms.

“So what, I’m supposed to run around pretending I have an invisible boyfriend for the rest of the campaign?”

“True.” Amy tapped her Blackberry against her chin. “We need a body.”

“Well, I’d love to do it.” Richard said. “But I’m actually engaged to Kelly for next June.”

“What’s Kelly?” Amy said.

“What about Mr. Egan?” Richard said.

Dan choked. On air. He slapped the edge of his desk twice before he could talk around his spit.

“Charming.” Amy muttered.

“Fuck. No.” He gasped. Jonah’s eyes narrowed.

“What the hell does that mean, Egan?”

“You really want to get into this?” Dan glanced at Amy. “Get Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dumbass out of here while I think.” He pointed to the door. “And someone get me some water.”

Jonah flipped him off, but Richard just as easily distracted him, taking by the arm and leading him back out to the bullpen. Dan and Amy heard him mutter “ _When the fuck did you get engaged?_ ” before the door closed again.

“You really want to push this?” Dan asked.

Amy set her phone on her thigh. “It’s going to help. PR wise, and also, like, the women of the world. Gay Jonah Ryan eliminates his access to them altogether.”

“He could be bi.” Dan said without thinking. Amy’s eyebrows knit together.

“What?”

“Bisexual. He could tell girls he's-fuck, never mind.” Dan took out his own phone and opened his emails. Fuck it to hell, Amy was right. Jonah bounced six point just in the past twelve hours. “Fine, but it’s not going to be me.”

And then Amy did something very strange. She smiled. “ _Dan_.”

“Hire a prostitute or something, say he’s a staffer.”

“Because that can’t go to shit in our faces at all.” The smile was still fixed on her face. Dan finally identified it as that of a vet - someone accustomed to telling people they were going to slowly kill a beloved dog. “You'd be the first to point out it makes sense narratively. You've known each other for years, you dropped everything to come up to this frozen hell to run his campaign-"

"Because _you_ told me it would be good for my career!"

"Didn't you ever do plays growing up? It’ll just be like that.”

“Stop fucking talking like that, you sound like an English teacher, but not hot.” He shifted in his chair, his heartbeat starting to quicken and echo against his ribs. “The kind that own a lot of cats and drink vodka during first period.”

“Jesus Christ, what shitty public school did you go to?” She picked up her phone and walked to the doorway. “You’re being an idiot again, Dan. Don’t think of it as Jonah. Think of it dating a Kane and winning him a congressional seat to boot. You’ll be a miracle worker, like the new Clinton.”

“Bill or Hillary?”

Amy fixed him with an ice-blue stare, and swung out of the room, the click of her heels tapping down the hall.

Dan closed his eyes and pushed his hands up the sides of his head. Dan and Jonah. Dan Egan, the non-billionaire boyfriend. Dan Egan, the non-billionaire, political genius, handsome, charming boyfriend. Dan Egan, with the fastest skyrocketing political capital in the country.

And Jonah Ryan's boyfriend.

Dan groaned and dug his hands deeper into his scalp. His elbows slipped on the desk and he nearly smashed his chin on the wood. “Goddamn it."

"Mr. Egan?" Richard cracked open the door and knocked softly against the frame. "I have your water."

"Tell Jonah to get his ass in here."

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.


	2. I'm Better Off On The Floor Alone

The Uber ride they took from the office, as soon as the press release went up on every available Twitter feed and website, was silent.

Dan leaned his head against the window, letting the cold air bleed through the glass and soak into his temple. His phone buzzed and blipped, so frequently it nearly morphed into a steady tone, in his pocket.

For the first time in a long time, Dan didn’t have the slightest urge to check his messages. He knew what they all said; _What the ever loving fuck, Egan? Seriously? Jonah?_

Jonah pushed himself against the opposite window, as far away as he could get from Dan, a sour expression etched deep into the lines of his face. He kept tugging at his bangs, which had come loose from their carefully gelled coif. He’d thrown his phone onto the seat between them. It lit up with texts of it’s own, but one glance told Dan that they were all from Jonah’s mom.

“So.” Jonah said, finally. He looked straight ahead, at the back of the empty passenger seat, his face still drawn and miserable. “What do you wanna do now?”

“I’m going back to the hotel.” Dan said, pausing between each sentence like it took a tremendous amount of energy to speak. “I’m gonna drink an entire bottle of scotch. And I’m going to pretend this is happening to someone else.”

“Okay, fuck you-” Jonah’s voice pitched up, reclaiming some of it’s usual fire. Dan’s eyes widened and lean lunged over the space between them, pressing his hand over Jonah’s mouth. _Shut up,_ he mouthed, jerking his head towards the driver, who dutifully kept her eyes on the road.

Jonah huffed through his nose, eyes glowing with rage, like a rearing bull. He licked Dan’s palm. He let go and wiped his hand on the leather.

Jonah’s whisper was harsh. “ _You started it_ -”

“Let’s get back to the hotel, _honey_.” Dan smiled, dripping each word in sugar.

“I’m not _staying_ at the hotel...babe.” Jonah flopped hard against his seat, digging his shoulder into the crevasse between the cushion and the window.

“You are tonight.”

 **DAN:** Remind me why this is a good idea

 **AMY:** jizzface is up another two points since the announcement, NPH.

 **DAN:** Shut the fuck up

* * *

“So, we’re going to need to get the story straight.” He said as he unlocked the door to his motel, Jonah on his heels. He paused, twisting over his shoulder. “And you need to take like, three big steps back.”

Jonah huffed, but stepped away, taking his hot, uncomfortably moist breath with him. “What story?”

“Ours.” Dan kicked off his shoes, ruined by the salt and slush on the pavement, and unbuttoned his suit. “Interview requests are coming down the pike, if Amy didn’t already set one up. This _thing_ needs to sound real.”

“It is real.” Jonah said. It took him until he sat down on the edge of the sad, floppy mattress to realize what he said. At least he had the decency to flush, splotchy and pink, in patches across his cheeks. “I-I just meant-” he swallowed and grabbed his bangs again. “Tell them the truth, we’ve been working together forever.”

“They’re going to want more than that.” Dan yawned, settling into the desk chair. “Cutesy shit. Our hobbies, our…” _Lord, take him now_. “Dates.” Now _his_ face felt warm.

“Okay.” Jonah reached into his winter jacket, gray and puffy and completely undercutting any gravitas his suit and new haircut may have given him, and pulled out a flask. “So just tell them date stuff.”

 _“Date stuff?_ Like, that sounds totally bitching!” Dan’s voice pitched into the voice behind his nose, nasally and mocking. He reached out for Jonah’s flask. 

“You know, whatever you do on dates.”

Something about Jonah's phrasing gave Dan pause. “Have you never been on a date before?”

Jonah hesitated just a second too long. Dan’s body, which had been melting into the scratchy fabric of the chair, tensed again. “Oh, no fucking _way_.”

Jonah jerked the flask back against his chest. “Fuck you, Amy and I-”

“Your Amy date was blackmail, that doesn’t count.” Dan grinned; Dan sneered. “Are you twelve years old? Shit, are you a _virgin_?”

“I’m not a fucking virgin!” Jonah’s eyes flashed red. “This is a time of fluid relationships and online hookups, Egan, dating is over. You’d know that if you weren’t fifty years old.”

“Just keep telling yourself that buddy.” _Please, Jonah was four years younger, tops._ Dan bounced his leg against the pilly carpet. “...When’s your birthday?”

Jonah fiddled with the cap of his flask, hanging loose around the neck of the bottle. “What?”

“If we’re boyfriends, I need to know your birthday, dumbass.”

“Say please.”

“Don’t be an asshole.”

“I’m being whatever I want. This is America.” 

Dan nearly bit through the sides of his cheeks with the force of his molars grinding together. “ _Please_.”

Jonah smirked, mollified from his earlier embarrassment. “August 8th. ‘87.”

“I’m October 28th. ‘83.” So he was right in his estimate. Goddamn Jonah for still being in his twenties.

“I know.”

Dan stilled his leg. “Stalker.”

“We’re friends on Facebook, Dan.”

“Oh.”

Jonah tipped the flask into his mouth again. A thin stream of vodka dripped out the corner of his lips and down his chin. He wiped it off with the back of his hand and extended the flask to Dan. He grabbed it as fast as he could.

“What’s your favorite color?” Jonah asked. “Mine’s blue.”

They talked a lot longer than Dan predicted, the winter moon climbing higher and higher in the sky outside the window. Jonah's favorite music was a tie between “Everything Kid Rock ever did” and some German metal band he garbled the name of. His mom had been married four times and she called him every other day. Dan thought most music sucked but Beyonce and Jay-Z were good for running. He had a little brother named Dave who sold houses in Rochester, New York, where they grew up. Jonah liked craft beer and so did Dan. Dan was allergic to shrimp, and they were both allergic to cat dander.

"What kind of movies do we go see?" Dan asked. "Remember, there's the real answer and the right one."

"I like superhero movies." Jonah shrugged one shoulder against his ear. He was red-faced and more than a little drunk, lying on his stomach on top of the comforter. "Captain America is the fucking bomb."

"Ahh. Got a thing for Chris Evans, that works." Dan said. It was hard to tell, given how red he already was, but he almost certainly saw Jonah blush a little, before leaning forward on his forearms.  

“Okay, okay, I got one; What do you call that thing you have?” Jonah asked.

“What thing?” Dan said. His hands seemed to have a mind of their own, cracking open the top of his scotch bottle and tipping it to his lips while the rest of him melted against the desk.

“Your thing, you know, where you go, like-” Here Jonah made loops around both ears with his index fingers. “Like in London. What was that?”

The desk dug into Dan’s stomach. That had to be the reason his breath cutting off unexpectedly. “Fuck off.”

Drunk Jonah responded slowly, his eyelids heavy as he blinked. “What?”

Dan heaved himself up from the chair. “I’m going to bed. Take the floor.”

“Dan, what did I do?”

Dan’s hands went to his belt to strip down to his boxers, but decided against it at the last moment. Don’t take your armor off amidst enemies. He yanked the sheets as far back as he could with Jonah’s weight still pinning the opposite corner down, and kicked his shoes off.

" _Dan_ , what?"

He burrowed under the blankets still fully dressed.

“Why do you hate me so much?”

“Floor, Jonad.” Dan pressed his lips together, scrunched up his face like he could force himself to sleep if he concentrated hard enough. His heart felt like it was fluttering, about to bust out of his ribs.

But the weight on the bed didn’t change, only shifted. Dan lifted his head an inch. Jonah lay down next to him, on the top of the covers. He pulled his knees against his chest and tugged his pants off from his ankles.

“ _Do you not speak English now?_ ” Dan snapped.

“Jonah Ryan doesn’t sleep on the ground.” His legs were long and almost sickly pale - obviously - but more toned then they looked in his usual ill-fitting slacks.

“Then don’t sleep. Sit there and think about what you did to us.”

“Fuck, you, Dan.” He took out his phone and opened some kind of loud gaming app with cartoon voices. Dan pretended to sleep, watching the blue light of his screen bounce off the walls, for hours.

* * *

Dan usually set an alarm for five AM, but in the weirdness of the night before he forgot. Instead he greeted the morning at just after seven, with a bone-dry mouth and an aching head.

And Jonah’s massive, warm arm slung over his stomach.

Jonah twisted in his sleep, onto his stomach with his cheek smushed against the mattress, drooling a little. His arms and legs, unsurprisingly, took up the majority of the mattress, uncaring how much of Dan they hit in their efforts to expand eastward.

Dan stared down at his own stomach, felt the warm, sleepy weight of Jonah with every inhale and exhale. He always woke up less cold, less sharp when he was sharing his bed with someone else. It was one of the reasons he took pride in his Irish goodbyes - slipping away in the middle of the night with nary a sound.

That didn’t look like it would be an option today.

“Hey. Jonah, get up.”

Jonah yawned, and lifted his arm off of Dan. He rubbed his fists against his eyes, and rolled over - his hard-on dragging the sheet with him.

“Jesus Fucking Christ, I didn’t mean that literally!” Dan jerked away and rolled to face the other wall, hoping he hid the warmth blooming across his face. It’s not like - it was normal to notice how big a guy was, if he was that close to poking your eye out. It was basically a _survival instinct_.

Fuck, though. Jonah was _big_.

“It’s _morning!”_ Jonah hissed, throwing his half of the sheets off and jumping out of bed, any drowsiness he might have been feeling gone. “What, is yours broken or something?”

“Some of us learn to _angle away_ , fuckhead. Because we’re not _thirteen._ ” Dan mumbled to the wall, his mouth half-squished in the bedclothes. “Take deep breaths or think about garbage or something.”

“Shit.”

“That works too.”

“No.” Dan turned his head around as something black and rectangular clipped his cheek. Jonah held out his phone out, the screen open to a text conversation. “It’s my mom. She invited us over for breakfast.”


	3. For The Record, I Never Wanted This

Pam Kane greeted them at the door in a cream-colored sweater set and a big, crooked grin that matched Jonah’s own smile so exactly it scared Dan a little.

“This must be the famous Dan!” She said, gripping each of Dan’s upper arms and squeezing. “Come in, come in.”

"I'm famous?" He said, cocking an eyebrow. This part was easy, slipping into this vacant, charming set of flirtations. He didn’t even have to think about it anymore, so ingrained was Automatic Dan in his system. Ms. Kane beamed. 

"Of course! Every phone call is 'Dan this' and 'Dan that'-"

Jonah coughed and shot a glare at his mother. "What are you _on_ , Mom?"

Pam pressed the pads of her fingers over her mouth and giggled. "Uh-oh, I think I embarrassed someone."

Jonah pushed past them both, muttering something that sounded like _'fucking'_ and  _'shoot me'_. 

He seemed more agitated and anxious on the ride over than Dan was, and this was his home turf. Dan resigned himself to the outing, knowing if he refused, it would look strange and rude at best, and at worst, it could unravel the whole ruse. It was just one more charity breakfast he had to glide through, networking where he could. This charity just happened to be for one singular disaster of a man.

Pam and Dan watched him trudge away in awkward silence, the smile slipping from his mother's face.

“You have a beautiful home, Ms. Kane.” Dan jumped in. It worked, and she brightened again.

“Aren’t you sweet. Come in, come in, breakfast is on the table.” She led them into the dining room, which was laden with waffles and cut-up fruit and pitchers of orange juice. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, Dan, so I had Marta make everything. Oh, hang on, I have to take my pill before I eat.” She leaned over and squeezed Dan’s arm again. “You two just make yourself right at home.”

Dan gently pat the back of her hand with his own and smiled until she was out of sight. “Who’s Marta?” He asked.

“She’s our housekeeper. She cleans and cooks and stuff.” Jonah sat down next to him with a thud. Dan wondered if he was even capable of moving without the noise of a thundering antelope stampede.

“Don’t ever tell the voters you had a housekeeper.”

Jonah frowned and reached for a chunk of honeydew. “Why not?” He bit into and made a face. “Ugh, this sucks. _Mom!"_ He called into the kitchen. _"Why do you keep buying honeydew?”_

“Hey.” Dan grabbed the side of his chin and pulled him to face him. “Seriously, Dem voters hate the rich, how the fuck do you not know this?”

Jonah shrugged and stuffed a piece of pineapple in his mouth. “Have they _tried_ having money? It’s fucking awesome. Why should I apologize for being able to enjoy the finer things in life?”

He leered at Dan as he spoke, so Dan got a full view of the pineapple going down the wrong pipe. Jonah’s eyes bugged out as he gasped for air.

“Okay, calm down. Hands above your head.” Dan said as Jonah spit up the disgusting, half-chewed fruit into a cloth napkin. “Don’t be a baby.”

“Oh, Joanie, are you okay?” Pam emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. Jonah waved her off, ducking his head and lowering his arms.

“I’m fine, Mom.”

Dan smiled sweetly. “Yeah, _Joanie’s_ all good.”

Jonah stepped on his foot under the table. Slowly. Taking time to press down and crush each individual toe.

Pam seemed oblivious, however. Dan noticed her eyes were little glassy when she sat down across from him. “Okay, just drink water. Dan, this is my husband Mark.” She nodded behind her. "Mark, get in here!"

Another figure appeared in the doorway, a slender, balding man in blue hospital scrubs and wire-framed glasses.

“Hi, good to meet you.” Dan extended his hand. Mark didn’t take it. He kept his eyes trained on Jonah, who suddenly seemed fascinated with the table.

“So. Jonah. You’ve been holding out on us, huh?” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "This is why someone never brought a girl home."

Pam pursed her lips. “Jonah, say hi to your father.”

“Stepfather.” Jonah muttered. Slouched over in his chair, Dan got a flash of what he must have been like at seventeen, too big and angsty and unable to let someone else get the last word.

“Hi, I’m Dan.” He tried again. Pam looked relieved at his intervention, and started ladling syrup onto her waffles.

“Yes, and we’re so happy to have you here, helping out with Joanie’s campaign.”

 _I’m running it, you idiot._ “The pleasure is all mine.” He leaned over and grabbed Jonah’s hand, intercepting it midway to the platter of scrambled eggs, and lacing their fingers together. Jonah lifted his head, a flash of confusion in his eyes.

“Ohh.” Pam practically cooed. Mark coughed and busied himself with a glass of water.

“So, Dan.” He cleared his throat again. “Tell us about you.”

Jonah’s hand clenched tighter around Dan’s.

“Well, I grew up in New York, I went to Cornell and then Columbia-”

“And you’re gay?” Mark made eye contact for the first time. "Had your eyes set on Jonah?"

“ _Mark._ ” Pam shushed him, but he didn’t back down. Jonah’s fingers strained against Dan’s, trying to pull away, but Dan didn’t let him let go.

“Yup.” He smiled serenely. “Gay gay gay gay gay gay.”

He picked up his fork with his free hand, stabbed a sausage link, and stuffed it in his mouth without breaking eye contact with Mark. Something about this guy just pissed him off.

Jonah smirking into his eggs - relaxing marginally for the first time since they set foot in the house - was just an added bonus.

* * *

Pam was loading them down with tupperware full of cubed cantaloupe and cold pancakes when Amy called. Dan stepped out into the hallway as Pam fussed over Jonah’s hair and he smacked her hands away.

“I’m trapped in a _Home and Garden_ magazine.” He muttered by way of greeting.

“Get him out of there, I set up an interview with _The Telegraph_ in the office in half an hour.” Amy said, by way of answering. He could hear her tapping away on her laptop. “It’s a straight puff piece, wear light colors and don’t smile with your teeth.”

“Me? What’s wrong with my teeth?” Christ, was Amy coaching _him_? Was he a defective product that needed to be heated up and reshaped? Twenty-four hours of playing house with Jonah and he was a mess by association?

“Your canines are too pointy, they make you look like a shark. We’re trying to make these pumpkin fuckers feel like they’re safe with you and Jonad.” She paused, her voice lower and more snide when she spoke again. “How _is_ your one and only? Making plans to open a B &B in Vermont?"

Dan hung up. “J, we have to go.” He called, cringing even as it came out of his mouth. Two hours with this family and he’d jumped on the “cutesy nicknames for Jonah” wagon.

If Jonah processed what had just happened, though, he didn’t let on when he poked his head around the corner, his arms stacked with food. “Yeah, we got to get back to the office.” He puffed up his chest and looked to see if anyone was impressed with this. Mark was nowhere in sight.

“All right.” Pam said, making no attempts to hide her disappointment. “I’ll see you tonight, then.” She stood on her tiptoes to kiss Jonah on the cheek. He shifted from foot to foot, looking, abashed, at the ground. “You can help me sort my pills while we make dinner.”

“ _Mom_.”

“And it was really, really great to meet you, Dan.” She turned on him and Dan unexpectedly found her arms wrapped around him, his own arms pinned to his side.

“Oh.” He bent at the elbow and feebly tapped her back, light and awkward. “Okay, here we go.” She smelled like kitchen cleaner and coffee - a mom smell. He’d forgotten what moms who weren’t Selina Meyer were like, who wore sweater sets from Marshall's and made their own coffee in the morning and raised kids like Jonah.

“Mom.” Jonah chided again, shifting his jaw in fidgety embarrassment. Pam released Dan and patted his cheek.

“Okay, okay. I’ll see you two handsome boys tonight. Good luck at the office.”

Jonah grabbed Dan - by the wrist, not the hand - and practically dragged him to the waiting car, his face getting redder with every step.

“She’s so...I don’t get why she doesn’t just want to kick her own ass every day.” He mumbled. "You know she takes a lot of pills, right? Sometimes she says stuff that's just...total bullshit."

"Whatever." Dan nodded to the Town Car driver that they were both in the vehicle and put on his seatbelt, just for something to do with his hands. “She's better than Mark."

He expected Jonah to light up with rage, join in the pile-on with the relish he did whenever Dan showed him the slightest camaraderie in picking on someone. Instead, he just slouched farther down in his seat and pulled the zipper of his coat all the way up his neck. He looked exhausted, like he had just run a marathon. “What did Amy want?”

“What?”

“She called you. Inside.”

“Oh, right. We have an interview back at the office, I’m just gonna swing by the motel to change.”

"Why?"

"Amy wants me to wear something a little more..." he waved his hand into the ether, checking the time on his phone. “So your mom roped you into having dinner with her tonight, huh? Sucks.”

“ _We’re_ getting having dinner with her. You and me.” Jonah sighed.

“Oh, no fucking way.”

“She said you’re family and family doesn’t stay in a hotel. Don’t open your mouth like that Dan, this isn’t your freshman pledge week.”

A tension headache erupted in Dan’s right temple. “She does realize you’re - technically - an adult man who’s trying to run for Congress right now, right?”

Jonah let his head roll to the side, fixing Dan with a glare. “I don’t know, Dan. Maybe this is what happens when your kid has never been on a date before.” His last few words took on a mocking, stilted tone, seemingly not realizing throwing Dan’s insult back at him was still just insulting himself.

“Jonah-”

“Don’t talk about my fucking family, okay?” He swiped his bangs and looked out the window, the car pulling into the gray parking lot outside Dan’s room. “Just...hurry up. Go put on your faggiest sweater.”

“ _Hey_.” Dan was surprised by the sharp stab of hurt in his chest. It had been a long time since he let that word bother him.

But Jonah didn’t answer, only stared at the cars passing the motel through thick, fake glasses lenses.


	4. My Dark Mistakes They Start To Show

“My dad wanted me to be a lawyer.” Dan told Amy as he leaned over the bathroom sink, picking at his teeth. It was the men's room, but Amy had followed him in, unperturbed by this fact. “I could be living in a Brooklyn brownstone right now after suing an orphanage for the land.”

“And I could be President of the United States.” She said, leaning against the wall behind him and texting. “But I don’t diet and I sold all my available eggs in college. In a perfect world, Dan.” Dan stepped back and she tipped forward on her heels, smoothing his sweater - the lightest blue he brought - over his tie. “I can’t believe you went into the crusty asshole where Jonah grew up. Was it crazy? Were the walls covered in blood and rotting intestines?”

Dan shrugged. “His mom...she actually remind me of your mom.”

Amy wrinkled her nose. “My condolences. Okay,” she stepped back. “Jessica Barker is set up in the bullpen. She's super easy, super dumb. The biggest story she wrote in the past year was on kids in Nashua stealing from an apple farm.”

“Like they robbed it?”

“No, like they actually _stole apples_.” She opened the bathroom door, almost smiling. “This place is out of a racist novel from the 1860s.”

Jonah was chatting with Jessica, his hands jammed in his pockets. She wasn’t a small woman - nobody ever seemed small with Amy in the room - but Jonah still towered over her like a leering lamp post.

“That’s a really beautiful top.” He muttered, eyes roving over her cleavage. 

“ _Fuck my tits_.” Amy strode quickly between the two of them. “Hi Jessica, so nice to put a face to the emails. Jonah, your boyfriend’s ready.”

Jonah opened his mouth, then closed it. He shifted his jaw and took a step away from Jessica. Amy smirked and ushered Dan into the circle.

“Okay, so where would you guys like to sit?” Jessica asked. “Somewhere well lit? So we can take some pictures to go with the article?” She waved her phone at them. Dan almost laughed. She was going to take _pictures_ on her _phone_.

“Yeah, over there.” Amy pointed at the bench near the window, the only room in the office that got any semblance of natural light. “Make yourself at home.” She trailed off as her phone beeped and drew away her attention. Dan smiled - What else could he do? - and took Jonah’s hand again, dragging him to the bench.

This time, Jonah didn’t even try to hold his back. He went rigid, and then melted, hanging limply in Dan’s grip like a dead fish.

“So let me just say, off the record, you’re an adorable couple.” Jessica said, smiling over her tortoiseshell glasses. Jonah rolled his eyes.

“Thank you.” Dan said politely, although he privately agreed with Jonah's eye roll. Jessica turned the recorder on her cell phone on. “So, what do you want to know?”

Jessica ran through her list of predictable, small town fluffy questions. Likes, dislikes, morning routines, date nights. Dan answered most of them in predictable, fluffy lies. He painted a cheery picture of breakfast with Jonah’s mom just that morning. He pretended to be wet for New Hampshire.

And Jonah sat there, nodding occasionally, staring off into space most of the rest of the time. There was no table to hide anything, so Dan couldn’t even pinch him or kick his shin to make him come back to earth.

Jessica seemed to notice this too, and started modifying her questions. “Okay, this one is for each of you. What’s your favorite thing about your boyfriend?”

Dan blinked. “I…” He glanced at Jonah, who seemed to have no intention of answering or even speaking in human words. “For better or worse, he goes with his gut. In D.C. you’re surrounded by people being opportunistic and weighing choices but…” Jonah looked at him, suprise clear in his lifted eyebrows. Dan swallowed. He hadn't meant to say so much. “He’s fearless, I guess.”

"Really?" Jonah asked.

"Yeah." Dan was surprised in himself that he wasn't lying. "Yes."

Jessica smiled. Dan, before he could think about it too much, reached over and clapped a hand on Jonah’s kneecap. “It’s great to watch.”

Jonah looked down at his lap, at Dan’s hand.

“And what about you, Mr. Ryan?” Jessica prompted.

Jonah shrugged. “Shit. I guess that he says stuff like that.” He wasn't smiling, though. He didn't even look at her. Instead his gaze fixed on his own lap. Something was wrong.

"Jonah-" Dan tried. Jonah sighed, loudly, and stuck his hand inside his jacket.

“Oh, I-this is an important call, excuse me.” He stood up and held his dark phone to his ear. “Yes, of course. I’ll be there soon...Solange.” He stepped away from Jessica and Dan, his long legs taking him across the room in three strides.

“What-"

“You hang tight.” _Dan smiled at her. Keep the outside placid even though your stomach is trying to strangle your lungs._ “The campaign never stops!”

Jessica nodded, but it was a little uneasy.

Dan caught Jonah’s arm, squeezing tighter when Jonah attempted to throw him off. “What is your _problem_?” He asked, leaning in so Jessica couldn’t overhear them.

Jonah’s jaw tightened as he wavered in both directions over Dan, trying and failing to see escape routes. “I didn’t want to be your fake boyfriend, Dan!” He finally hissed, dropping his phone to his side.

“Because _I’ve_ got a scrapbook dedicated to how dreamy _you_ are.”

“Nobody even asked me if I wanted to do this! You just did it!”

“Yeah, and it’s getting you elected to Congress. Lying is how it _works_ , Jonad. Jesus fuck, how long have you been in D.C.?”

“Don’t call me that!” Jonah snapped. “You don’t get to say all that nice shit and then call me that!” He was getting red, worked up, in a way Dan could just _tell_ was three seconds away from a noticeable explosion.

So Dan leaned up (he didn’t stand on his tiptoes, he did _not_ ) and slung his arms around Jonah’s shoulders.

Jonah tensed again, and Dan squeezed him. “Try to pretend you’ve been hugged before.” He murmured, his lips so close to Jonah’s ear he could feel his soft, slightly fuzzy skin. Jonah relaxed marginally.

“Okay, you’re going to take a deep breath, and we’re going to finish this interview like you’re not a fucking school shooter, and then you can shit your pants or whatever the problem is.” 

Jonah paused, then did as Dan said - though Dan had never heard someone breathe sarcastically before. “Good boy.”

“Fuck off.”

“I’m going to let go of you, and when I do,” Dan was so soft now he hoped the comment wasn’t just registering as air in Jonah’s ear canal. “I’m going to kiss you.”

Jonah’s head jerked back on his neck, by less than an inch, almost imperceptibly.

“Don’t freak out.”

And then Dan slid his hand up his jaw and kissed Jonah Ryan full on the mouth.

He did it the way high school plays and elderly politicians did - PG, no tongue. Jonah’s lips were a lot softer than he thought they would be, and fuller too. And Jonah responded automatically, not slobbery or frozen by surprise. Dan let his eyes close until he felt Jonah’s hand, heavy and warm on the small of his back. _Danger, Will Robinson!_ The alarms in his head blared. _Not Real!_

He pulled away. Jonah’s chin and mouth trailed him, almost like they were magnetically linked, his eyes still closed for the second it took him to realize Dan wasn't kissing him anymore.

Then he opened them, coughed, and turned his head to the side. Dan still caught spots of dark pink appearing on his face.

“Come on.” Dan said, nodding back to Jessica, trying again to control his expression. Nothing on the outside, nothing on the inside.

“Yeah. Yeah. Okay.” Jonah nodded, and while he didn’t make eye contact with Dan, he did seem less pissy with each step he took. "I want to change my answer." He told Jessica. 

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I like that he always knows how to fix shit. _Stuff_ , I mean." He looked around the room for Richard. "Richard, can we make sure that doesn't get printed?"

"Don't worry, I won't quote that." Jessica said, and this time Dan liked her unprofessionalism. He was having trouble running interference right now himself.

After they took photos - chaste hand holding only, Amy nixed the Jessica’s idea to have them stand back-to-back like Charlie’s Angels - and shoved her out the door, Jonah flopped against the wall, looking wiped again.

“I’m going to my car.” He said.

“You don't have a car up here."

“Richard, give me your keys!” He called. Richard obediently threw his keys across the room. They missed Jonah’s hand and smacked him in the mouth. “ _Fuck!_ ” He swiped them off the floor.

“Sure, I’ll just do everything, I have unlimited time and hands.” Amy called as the door swept shut.

“I’ll go get him.” Dan said. Amy made a face he couldn’t quite name. “What?”

“Nothing.”

_“What?”_

“That was...quite a kiss.”

“Fuck off.” He sighed. Amy shrugged.

“Hey, you’re an equal opportunity slut, from what I remember.” She raised an eyebrow and Dan flushed, remembering their week of hooking up a million years ago, memories of a disastrous attempt at pegging and then Amy not returning his calls.

“Bye, Amy."

"Bye, Dan. B-I."

He flipped her off.

Richard’s car was shaking when Dan tried the door. Jonah had cranked his horrible music up on the radio and threw the whole upper half of his body back and forth with the beat. Dan knocked on the window. Still bopping, Jonah unlocked the door.

“You want to tell me-” Dan gave up on shouting and smacked the radio off.

“What the hell?” Jonah whined, petulant.

“You want to tell me why you have a stick up your ass like you’re Amy?”

Jonah scratched the side of his neck. He had horrible red razor burn poking out from his collar, how had they missed that before they took pictures? Dan would have to rub some lotion on it.

Get _Jonah_ some lotion to rub on it. _Himself_.

“I don’t like being dragged out for stuff like that."

"What don't you understand, people _like_ that-"

"Yeah, my mom liked it, that chick liked it, they think it's the romance of the century."

"Of the century? Do you think?" Dan found himself briefly distracted.

Jonah shook his head. "What is the endgame here? More stories like this? Forever? I don’t want Mark and his shithead friends reading bullshit like that in the news if it's all fake.”

_If._

It hung in the air like smog. Jonah clamped his mouth shut and turned on the radio again, drawing out the awkward silence.

"I just-I want to get married someday, Dan." Jonah managed to stammer out, before his words abandoned him and he gulped, noiselessly, again.

“...He probably can’t read the newspaper anyway.” Dan tried. _Just keep moving, just push through it. It was a mistake._ _This isn't real._ “Your stepdad. All those doctors are on drugs and fuck their brains up.”

Jonah looked at him for a second like he didn't get the joke, like he didn't understand the out. And then he laughed. “He’s a physical therapist, Dan.”

"Oh. Like that's better."

"Yeah." He sat up a little straighter in his seat. “Bitch couldn’t even get into real med school.”

“That’s the spirit.” Dan managed not to look away from Jonah's face, the song vibrating straight down to his bones.


	5. I Don't Remember Why I Always Let You In

They didn’t get to talk much the rest of the day. The afternoon was dedicated to filming a TV spot with Jonah chopping wood. He looked good in flannel and jeans - Dan supposed there were some benefits to being brought up in a town of lumberjacks - but his arms were too noodly to even make a nick in the stump they fucking set up for him.

It took some questionable video editing and over sixty takes to put together something halfway passible. By the time they got back to Pam’s house (Dan sent an intern to gather his clothes from the motel, he couldn’t stand running into Amy and her knowing smirk.) Jonah was so tired he ate three plates of spaghetti with nary a word.

“Do you want something to kick you up a little?” Pam asked, as Jonah yawned and almost dropped face-first into a pile of garlic bread.

“Nah. Gotta get some sleep, be sharp for the...Dan, what are you making me do tomorrow?”

Dan rolled his eyes. “We’re going to your elementary school to talk about children's literacy.”

Jonah groaned and let his head fall against the dining room table with a sickening thunk.

“Okay.” Dan said. “Someone’s calling it an early night.” He stood and hooked his arm under Jonah's to help pull him up. Jonah winced, still sore from all his failed axe-swinging. "I should probably turn in too." He said, once Jonah proved capable of standing upright on his own. "Where-where is your guest room?”

Pam glanced at Dan, and then back at her son. “Oh honey.” She said. “I may have been born at night, but it wasn’t last night."

Dan blinked. "What?" he asked, despite understanding, with a heavy dread in his stomach, exactly what she was getting at.

"I’m not under any illusions you two don’t sleep in the same bed.”

“Hmph.” Mark said, and got up with a few empty plates, closing the door to the kitchen behind him. Jonah sighed and trudged towards the stairs. Dan stood to follow, but Pam _tsked_ anxiously, and grabbed Dan by the arm when he was at the foot of the steps.

“Dan, please excuse my husband. He’s not a bad man, he’s got nothing against...your people.” She nodded up and down Dan’s body, like gayness was painted on his skin. “He just...I think actually seeing it makes him uncomfortable.”

Dan nodded, unsure of what else he could do. When did his life become an after school special?

Pam was still talking. “This was a bit of a shock to him. We’ve been married since Jonah was seventeen and I don’t think it ever crossed his mind.” She glanced at both doors before leaning in to whisper, a little more upbeat, a little more conspiratorially. “But I always had a feeling. Especially after he met you.”

The staircase creaked and Jonah leaned over the railing, suspicion in his eyes. “What are you guys doing?”

“Talking about you.” Pam reached up and ruffled Jonah’s hair. 

He jerked away. “God, Mom, personal space!”

“I’ll be up in a second.” Dan said. Jonah just stared at him. Pam did too, with much more expectancy. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to the side of Jonah’s jaw, the highest he could reach without the indignity of pushing himself onto his toes. Jonah jerked minutely; half a flinch, half a shiver. He turned and stomped up the stairs again, without another word.

“You two have a good night.” Pam said, looking smug, for some reason. “Dan, you can use the hall bathroom, just let me get my sleeping pills out of your way.”

When he walked into Jonah’s room, teeth brushed and changed into sweats, Jonah was lying in his bed, in his boxers and sweatshirt, playing on his phone. A navy comforter folded in half lay on the floor.

“I hope you’re just warming that bed up for me.” Dan spoke without thinking, and immediately had to divert all his energy to stopping his face from turning red. Jonah looked at him over his phone, taking off his fake glasses and setting them on his window sill. 

“This is  _my_ bed, Dan. You got the bed last night.”

“That you jumped into anyway. Jonah, I actually need sleep. So I have the energy and wherewithal to carry your ass for the next two weeks.” Dan sat down on the foot of the bed and nudged Jonah’s foot. “Come on, up and fucking at ‘em.”

“I never got that expression.” Jonah said, not moving. “Who’s Adam?”

Dan stared at him. “It’s _at ‘em_. Like, ‘at them’. God, you’re so fucking stupid.”

“Maybe because my Nazi campaign manager keeps making me sleep on the floor and my brain is melting!”

Dan planted his knees on either side of Jonah’s legs and grabbed him by strings of his hoodie. “Get _up_.”

“I'm the talent! Keeping the Jonah Ryan look fresh should be your number one priority!” Jonah made over exaggerated gagging noises, twisted over, and tried to throw Dan off with the full weight of his body.

Dan swung wildly to one side, then the other, smacking his shoulder into the wall. 

"Ow, fuck!" He clapped a hand over his arm and fell back on his heels.

“ _Good night, boys_.” Pam called, mere feet away.

Dan froze, some long dormant Catholic guilt striking the fear of God into him; he was fourteen again and feeling up Katie Flynn in her basement, and her dad was coming down the stairs. But after a second of recon he realized it was coming through the wall. 

“Your mom and dad sleep fucking _next door_?”

“Stepdad.” Jonah said, still trying to push on Dan’s hip and make him topple onto the floor. “It’s fine if you’re not yelling like a little bitch."

“Okay, you’re totally still a virgin.”

“Will you shut the fuck up about that?” Jonah smacked his thigh and Dan tried to ignore the shameful little thrill the sting sent to his groin. “I’ve fucked twice the girls you have.”

“Not well, clearly, seeing as your little marriage plan isn’t working out.”

Jonah didn’t volley back. "Yeah." He scoffed and looked down at the peeling lettering on his sweatshirt. “Whatever you say, Dan.” 

He sat up farther, pulling his legs out from under Dan, and swung them over the side of the mattress.

Shit. What was this weird aching in the pit of Dan's stomach? Like guilt, directed towards another person?

Jonah dropped onto the floor, with his back to Dan, pressed up against the bedframe. He reached up and raked his fingers through his hair, pulling it loose of it’s gel and leaving it standing up in strange, crooked angles.

“...Sorry.” Dan ground out.

“Like it’s so weird to want what 51% of adults in this fucking country want.” Jonah snapped.

“Holy shit, you have the _statistic?_ Just like, fucking _ready?”_

“Numbers are easy, shithead.” He said, pridefully, but he still didn’t turn around.

“I’ve been engaged twice.” Dan blurted out.

Jonah considered this for a long few seconds before answering. “Only twice?”

“Ha-ha, fuck you.” Dan said, but without any really venom. 

“To who?”

“Last time was a couple years ago, to Deirdre Wheeler.”

“From the State Department?”

Dan smiled. “Yeah. She was fun, sexy. She knew all this great shit about what happened in Qatar and who was going down for it.”

“And she’s got great tits.”

“Charming. And true."

“What about the first time?”

Dan’s smile faded. Almost unconsciously, he clutched his left hand with his right, rubbing the skin on his ring finger. “When I was twenty-two.” He hesitated for a moment before just bulling through, with a forceful sigh out his nose. “To my college boyfriend Russell.”

He took care to make sure to spit out the last three words with conviction, not let them dip at the end. That the statement didn’t reveal an ounce of vulnerability or shame or whatever else Jonah’s brain was about to milk from it and turn into poison.

But Jonah didn’t say anything. At all. After ten full seconds, Dan wondered if perhaps he hadn’t actually spoken out loud.

“J-”

“I heard you.” The floorboards creaked as Jonah twisted around. He propped his elbow up on the edge of the mattress, and Dan suddenly couldn’t stand to look at him, squeezing his eyes shut even as he felt Jonah staring. “So you’re...you know...actually.”

“ _Yes_.” Dan filled the word with all the warning and fire he could.  _You wanna fucking make something of it?_

“I-me too. I like...both.” Jonah stammered.

“Oh.”

Another endless silence fell over them. Dan still didn’t look over, but he could hear Jonah sitting up.

“You're the first person I ever told.”

Dan blood ran to ice. “Shit, really?”

“ _No!_ ” Jonah burst out laughing. “Dude, I’ve been fucking dudes since I was twenty-one! Your face, Christ!” Jonah threw his head back, a wide hand clapped over his stomach. A smirk tugged at the corners of Dan’s mouth.

“Fuck you, that’s not funny. I thought we were going to have to watch _Will and Grace_ or something.”

“I hate _Will and Grace_.”

“Me too.” Dan did laugh then, for the first time in awhile. He sat up too, let his eyes adjust to the darkness of Jonah’s bedroom, it’s James Bond movie posters and speech team trophies, gradually come into focus.

And Jonah, giggling on the ground, his pale skin and gray sweatshirt nearly glowing in the dark. The sight didn’t fill him with rage the way seeing Jonah usually did. Only when they calmed down a little did Jonah speak again, slower than usual.

“It took a long time to be okay with...you know, being like this.” He was softer too. His voice almost sounded like it belonged to a completely different man. “And whenever I come back here, I’m like...not okay, again.”

“Well, Shithead in there probably doesn’t help.” Dan jerked his thumb towards the wall. Jonah nodded thoughtfully. "I get it, though."

“Is that why didn’t you marry that guy?”

Dan grabbed his own fingers again. “No. We couldn’t. Actually get married, I mean, not in New York State. But even if…” His tongue lay dry in his mouth. “It wasn’t because he was a guy. I just knew I had more shit to do. I needed to be unattached.”

Jonah considered this. “Dan?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s really fucking uncomfortable down here.”

“Thanks for the report, buddy.”

“You’re in _my_ bed, move over.”

A thousand insults and putdowns and excuses crowded on Dan’s tongue, jockeying for first go out his mouth, but something he couldn't articulate made him just roll closer to the wall, pulling back the corner of the sheets so Jonah could crawl in under them.

Their legs brushed together as Jonah settled in, on his side, face inches from Dan's. Dan’s knee knocked against his, but he didn’t jerk away.

There wasn’t room for that.

Jonah slung his arm over Dan’s side again - for the second day in a row, Dan was hyper aware of it’s weight and softness, separated from his skin by only a thin fabric.

Jonah grinned, his breath expelling the smell of artificial pine or mint or whatever his mouthwash's green food coloring was supposed to represent. “Shit, you’ve got so many freckles.” He said.

“I’m Irish.” Dan was fast losing his ability to stay stoic, to resist squirming beneath Jonah’s gaze. He looked like he wanted to eat Dan whole. “It comes with the territory.”

“Dan?"

"Yeah?"

"I-”

“Hey, you wanna fuck with Mark?” Dan cut him off. He pushed himself back up on his knees, the blood rushing back down his chest, leaving his head light and dizzy.

“What?” Jonah asked, blinking rapidly. “I mean-yeah. ‘Course.”

Dan glanced at the wall, pressed a finger to his lips, and began to rock back and forth on his knees, almost bouncing on the bed. The mattress groaned and squeaked underneath him.

“ _Ohh!_ ” He let out the loudest, breathiest moan he could muster. “Oh  _God, Jonah!”_

Jonah’s eyes widened, then lit up. He clapped a hand over his mouth, shaking with laughter as Dan bumped against the wall.

“ _Dude, my mom is in there_.” He whispered.

Dan shrugged. “Your mom _likes_ me.” He said, just as softly, before letting out another loud “Oh God, Oh God, fuck!”

Jonah tipped his head back against his headboard, his chest shaking. “Yeah, you like that, don’t you?” He tried through his laughter. He grunted and slapped his hand against the wall, catching a few fingers in the arm hole of Dan’s t-shirt.

Jonah dragged him down with his arm. Dan lost his balance and slipped off his knees. He didn't throw his hands out to catch himself fast enough, and fell against Jonah’s chest.

Jonah stopped laughing. Slowly, Dan lifted his head up to see Jonah looking at him - hungry gaze under heavy brows - again.

“Sorry.” He mumbled, for the second time in as many minutes.

Jonah cupped the back of his neck and kissed him.


	6. Sometimes Closure Doesn't Close Anything At All

There was nothing PG about this kiss.

Jonah’s mouth was open and hot and more than a little slobbery, but somehow, in the moment, Dan didn’t really mind. He was concentrated on fighting the shock the part of his brain still functioning tried to blanket the rest of him in.

Because he couldn’t be lying on a double long twin bed while Jonah Ryan stuck his tongue down his throat. And he just let him. He was clearly having a fever dream, like that week in London where he thought he saw Selina drag Amy into a hotel room by the lip of her skirt, and then he blacked out for ten hours.

He couldn’t possibly be letting Jonah Ryan kiss him like he was in charge.

“You with me?” Jonah asked, his voice husky and low - how many new voices was Dan hearing for the first time, in this bizarro little room? - as he pressed a kiss to Dan’s neck. Dan inhaled, quick and sharp. A line of energy seemed to draw from that soft, sensitive point in his skin down through his stomach and straight into his cock.

Jonah could feel him getting hard against his thigh, he knew it. But it wasn’t as mortifying as it should have been.

“Yeah.” He managed. He pushed himself up and grabbed Jonah around the back of his neck. “I’m good.”

Jonah grinned against the side of his face, and lifted his legs up around Dan’s hips, digging his heels into his ass. “Good.” After a moment of awkward tugging, he pushed Dan’s sweatpants down, to just below the swell of his ass, using only his toes.

“Jesus.” Dan mumbled. Jonah was hard against his stomach, his big hands encircling Dan’s back and sliding up underneath his t-shirt and Dan felt almost dizzy, overstimulated. He wedged a hand between their stomachs and shoved it under the waistband of Jonah’s boxers. He knew it. He was fucking _huge._

“You meeting the whale, Danny?” Jonah asked, unnecessarily smug. Dan barely managed to get a few loose strokes in before Jonah dipped two thick fingers down the cleft of Dan’s ass, running a tortuously light line down until he cupped his balls. Dan hissed and curled in towards Jonah’s chest. “You wanna ride it?”

Dan groaned. “You’re so fucking gross.”

“That’s not a no.” Jonah lifted his hand from Dan’s ass and stuck his fingers in his own mouth, coating them in saliva. He stared at Dan the whole time, watching his freckles gradually fade as the skin around them flushed red.

Without warning, he dropped his hand back against Dan’s ass hard, with a loud smack. Dan’s cock jerked a little and he closed his eyes. Jonah spanked him again, one, two, in rapid succession.

"Mpfh." Dan started to leak on the sheets still tangled around them.

“You’re wetter than a fish tank.” Jonah sneered.

Dan collected himself enough to roll his eyes. "I'm not _wet_. I’m a man, Jonah."

Jonah ignored the comment. “You fucking like it, don’t you? I’m your _boss_ , Danny. I get to do whatever I want with you.”

 _“Shut up_.” Dan managed, weakly, and looked down, resuming his efforts to jerk Jonah off. Jonah pushed a damp finger against Dan’s rim. Slowly, and then just making the leap, adding another. Dan bit his lip, and tapped Jonah’s shoulder. “Shit, wait. Condom. Lube.”

It had been awhile since he’d been on the receiving end of a fuck, and he wasn’t walking around tomorrow - if tomorrow even came, if this wasn’t some sign of the apocalypse - sore and with giardia, or whatever other river disease Jonah was sure to be carrying around.

“Yeah, yeah.” Jonah nodded mindlessly, and took his fingers out of Dan’s ass. Dan hated how empty he felt without it. He reached around to open himself up a little more - _if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself -_  while Jonah leaned over the bed and pulled a condom and a shockingly neon-colored bottle of lube out of his bedside drawer. 

“Please tell me those aren’t from 2001.” Dan said, lifting himself to the side so Jonah could pull down his boxers and get both on. Jonah's was hard and heavy, just from a handjob and some kissing.

“ _No_. It's not like they rot.”

“Condoms expire, Jonad.”

“Condoms _expire_?” Fear flitted across Jonah’s face, so Dan just sat up, tilting his hips back and forth to rub his asshole against the head of Jonah’s dick.

And just before he lowered himself down onto it, for reasons unknown, he leaned forward and kissed Jonah’s slightly sweaty forehead.

He was sitting with his knees straddling Jonah again, but found it much harder to be pissed off this time.

“Shit.” He said. “Oh _God,_ Jonah.” If was almost too much, he had a fleeting moment of overwhelmed panic - how could he be this full? - but the Jonah grabbed him by the hips, rolling his body up into Dan. He gasped again.

“Who’s the fucking virgin now?” Jonah asked. His pupils were blown dark and giant.

“That doesn’t even make sense.” Dan tried to snap, but it came out higher and more breathless than intended. He pressed one of his hands against the wall for balance, his palm digging into the thumbtack holding up Jonah’s fucking Eminem poster. And he started to fuck himself up and down Jonah’s cock.

It only took a few minutes for Dan to lose it, to come all over the stomach of Jonah’s sweatshirt and fall forward, his arms on the cleanest part of Jonah’s chest.

“Shit. Disgusting.” He mumbled against Jonah’s clavicle. But Jonah just laughed. He thrust up into Dan again, his hand resting with strange gentleness on the back of Dan’s head, and it didn’t take more than forty-five seconds before he was coming too, with a soft malformed mix of expletive and moan.

He softened inside Dan and delicately pulled out, with a long sigh. “So that’s what sex is like.”

“ _What?”_

“Dan, how the _fuck_ do you keep falling for that?” Jonah’s stomach shook with laughter under Dan. He rubbed his thumb up and down a patch of Dan’s hair. “This, London. Campaigning turns you into such a weirdo.”

“Go fuck yourself.” Dan let his head drop against Jonah’s neck. It vibrated a little against his skin as Jonah chuckled. Dan almost joined him again.

Instead he muttered “It’s a panic... disorder... thing. What happened in London. It’s not a thing anymore, it's not even-it was more of a... psychological incident. I handled it.” Dan sighed, running out of steam. “But you asked. And that’s... what happened.”

Jonah shifted his hand down to Dan's shoulder, rubbing it silently for a moment. “Dan, do you wanna get breakfast with me tomorrow?”

“What?”

“You wanna get breakfast with me? Before we go to the fucking school and talk about teen pregnancy or recycling your own shit or whatever?”

Dan blinked. “Yeah, sure, I’ll call Amy to set up a photographer.”

Jonah reached up and picked at the edge of his insane hair. “No, I just meant...like, just to eat? You eat, right, you don’t just put in a new fucking fuel tank?”

“I eat.” Dan closed his eyes, focusing on the rise and fall of Jonah’s breathing below him, his hands in his hair. “Is this one of those fucking bread restaurants you’re always hard for?”

"Oh man, it's the best fucking- Dan, the shit they can do with eggs in this place-" 

Jonah continued to ramble enthusiastically about breakfast food, and Dan was too tired, too fatigued and slowed down, to even pick on him about it. It was probably a bad idea, to step over the line, to push this thing out of a dark bedroom and into public, or whatever passed for such a thing in this town made entirely of covered bridges.

"Yeah, okay. Let's do it."

He'd have more energy to make fun of him tomorrow, sipping black coffee while Jonah shoveled french toast and poached eggs into his big, stupid mouth from across the table. Watching and being Dan Egan, the non-billionaire boyfriend.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read this. This is the fastest I've ever written a multi chapter fic and although in a week I'll probably think it's crap, right now I'm proud of the effort.


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